The Road to Betsy
by taylorswiftrox
Summary: Told from the point of view of herself, Brooke looks back on her pregnancy with Betsy and the night that started it all.
1. The Concert

"Hello there, pretty lady."

I looked up to see the blurry figure of a somewhat tall guy with short, brown hair. He looked familiar, in a strange way. Was he Greg, my controlling ex-boyfriend? No, Greg was shorter. Was he Isaac, the boy I fantasized about in 8th grade? Not at all, Isaac was blond with blue eyes and had exactly four freckles across his nose—I should know, he was all I ever paid attention to in history and math that year. Or could he be my dad-someone that abandoned me and my mom when I was just 4? No way, I always remembered my dad with a mustache and beard.

Whoever this guy was, I would never be able to figure out. After all, the Molly Hatchet concert hadn't even started yet and I had already downed 3 beers in the past hour and was unconsciously reaching for this strange man's half drunken one.

"Whoa, calm down." The man sat down next to me and tried to take his drink back. He pulled away when I practically barked like a dog. "By the way, I'm Michael Kelso.

"Well, Michael Kelso, why don't we go somewhere more... private." I advanced toward the guy, knowing no more than his name and that I was strangely attracted to him.

"But I don't even know your name." I could see the smile playing on his face, how he couldn't resist me and my extremely low top—something I only wore on special occasions. I would find out in the month's to come that he had known less about a girl and slept with her. He pulled back and fixed the button on his shirt that I had undone.

"Fine," I gave in. "I'm Brooke Rockwell."

Michael hesitated a bit. "Let's just wait until the concert starts."

I frowned, but slightly smiled. At least he hadn't exactly said no. In the next few minutes I found out more about him—some of which made me feel uneasy (which I first attributed to the beer running through my system). Michael was 19 (a little young by my standards), had 6 siblings, and had had numerous "relationships".

While Michael babbled on about girls named Jackie and Donna, I found myself falling in love with his eyes. What made me so attracted to him? Two minutes ago I had just found out he had almost failed English all four years of high school (which would normally make me nauseous being the Valedictorian of my high school class) and cheated on his first girlfriend with the town slut (also one of his best friend's older sister) and it bothered me the least bit. Was it because I was drunk? Or was I truly attracted to him? I pushed both thoughts to the back of mind and tried to concentrate on the moment. Slowly I found myself leaning in and kissing him—stopping Michael mid-sentence.

When the kiss ended, Michael leaned back in his chair, thinking about what should happen next. He drank what was left of his beer, stood up, grabbed my hand, and confidently said, "Let's do it in the men's room, it's more romantic." I could tell he was more drunk than me, as he fell just after he said this.

I giggled with anticipation, following his every lead. Normally my idea of romantic would be a walk through the park or dinner at some place other than Fatso Burger. But today my idea of romantic was having sex in the men's bathroom with a boy I had only known for, at the most, 10 minutes. How could I have stooped so low?

_"The concert will start in two minutes. Two minutes until the start of the concert." _The announcer's voice roared through the building, sending somewhat of a shockwave through my body.

"It's okay, babe," Michael's words were slurred. He pulled me closer as teenagers and adults charged toward their seats.

When we entered the bathroom the three boys in there paid no attention to me-a woman-entering the men's bathroom. Michael led me to the handicapped stall, tripping over every step, and pulled a 13 year old boy out of the way.

"Hey, you can't-" the boy tried to object, but just shook his head and retreated to the next stall.

"Come on, sweetie." Michael pulled me into the 4 by 5 foot stall, locking the latch on the door behind him.

There was no going back now.


	2. Finding Out

_No way. NO way. NO WAY. _This couldn't be happening to me.

I sat in the doctor's office parking lot. I was frozen at the wheel of my car—my hands shaking on ten and two. I tried to cry, but no tears would come out.

"_I'm pregnant." _I whispered into the air. The words sat dry across my lips. Here I was, three weeks pregnant with a baby fathered by a guy I knew for all of ten minutes. This morning I denied having sex with the guy, how was I supposed to tell him I was pregnant with his child?

I took a long, deep breath and stared out the passenger window, trying to get into a better place. Outside a father lifted his four children, all girls, out of their car. He planted a kiss on each of their foreheads before exchanging one with his wife. That was the kind of family I had always envisioned when I was younger—a loving set of parents and children who were just as great.

Finally, I got the courage to start the car and step on the gas pedal. I headed down the street, not knowing where I was going.

_You've got to tell Michael, _the little voice in my head told me. I tried to push the thought out, but it wouldn't leave. That's when the tears came. They started off as tiny ones, trickling down my face. Very quickly they escalated into full-frontal tears that would not—could not—stop.

Suddenly, I found myself stopping the car and running down the street. I ran as fast as my feet could take me-passing awestruck people and more shops than I could count. I was trying to run off my troubles. At that moment I was hoping, if I ran fast enough, I wouldn't be pregnant anymore.

After what seemed like an eternity, I again found myself doing something that shocked me. I—a 23 year old, sophisticated woman—ended up walking into the park, a place where a lot of my childhood was spent. I passed the see-saw—on which I broke my arm when I was 9; the merry-go-round with its chipping purple paint; the tree my friend Donna had carved the initials EF&DP into when she was 6. Finally, I made my way to the old wooden playground. I climbed the few steps to the top and stood there-staring out on the empty park.

I found myself thinking, _whatever happened to me back then?_

~~~ . . . ~~~

"Breathe, Brooke, breath," I told myself. I had just pulled into the Forman's driveway, deciding when to get out of the car to tell Michael I was pregnant.

_Just go tell him, you'll be out of there in no time. _I emerged from my car, wiping my face on my jacket sleeve, giving in to the voice in my head for the first time that day.

_Maybe he won't be there, _I thought to myself. It could happen, after all this wasn't Michael's house. _He could be with another girl._ This thought I didn't listen to. But that was just the problem: he probably was. It was then that I saw Michael dart across the yard and run into the basement, clearly not noticing me. I breathed a sigh of relief, which caused me to become even more scared.

I descended down the outside steps, taking a breath as I reached each one and pushing one thought after another away, watching as each one returned. I reached the last step and braced myself. I could hear the sounds of Michael fighting with his friends about whether he had sex with me or not. I found myself thinking how I was ever attracted to him for what seemed to be, and probably was, the hundredth time that day.

_There's no turning back now._ This time the words came from both my thoughts and the voice that never seemed to go away. I turned the doorknob and stepped into the room, stopping the conversation. "Michael, I need to talk to you," I blurted the words out while trying to act calm.

Even though he seemed normal on the outside, I could tell that Michael was angry as he said, "Yeah… 'bout what?"

I only had a few seconds to prepare myself; I knew Michael was going to be extremely happy after what I said. "About our night together at the Molly Hatchet concert."

Michael gave a sly smile. I could see his friends looking at each other, thinking about how they were wrong all along.

Michael put his pointer finger up, saying, "Excuse me." He walked over to Fez, pointed at him and said, "Burn!" He walked behind the couch, pointing and burning Eric and Donna; in turn burning Jackie and Hyde as well. Michael ran up the stairs and I could hear the faint sound of him yelling, "Burn!" to both of the Formans. He came down the outside steps and back inside holding his hands out in a dramatic pause and gave a final, "Burn." Excitedly, he announced, "We totally did it!"

Even though I didn't look it, I was terrified when Michael turned back around to me. _It's now or never, _the voice told me once more. I breathed. "Michael, I just found out I'm pregnant."

I felt like the whole world was spinning around me after the words were said. Around us, Donna and Jackie put their hands over their mouths; Hyde left his wide open; and Fez and Eric tried to come to terms with what had just happened. All were clearly stunned.

Michael turned back to his friends and waved his hands in front of him. "I never touched her!" I watched as he sat down in the lawn chair.

I could feel my face burning, my heart pounding, my body wanting to yell at the father of my illegitimate child. For a few minutes, I stood in the midst of it all: Michael contemplating what happened, the still very shocked faces of the other five people, and the troubles of the world in general. Finally, it got to me. I burst into tears, right in the middle of the mess. I raced up the stairs and back to my car.


	3. Here She Comes!

**A/N: I came up with the date of Betsy's birth just because it was never said when she was born on the show.**

_Point Place, Wisconsin_

_March 27, 1979_

_6:15 AM_

_Location: Point Place Hospital_

"…7, 8, 9, 10." I counted down my latest contraction. I craned my neck to the right to see out the door and down the hall. It looked like the whole hospital was deserted, except for a man holding a three year old boy up to see a new baby in the nursery. I couldn't help but wishing the next time I was in this situation that man would be Michael and my baby.

I groaned as I flopped back onto the bed and tried to amuse myself by counting how many tiles were on the floor. It seemed like everyone had abandoned me that day. My mother had disappeared over thirty minutes before and the last time I saw my doctor was… I didn't even remember.

_Maybe Michael will come soon. _I shook my head. Forty minutes ago, after my water broke, I'd called him and he _still_ wasn't here. To make it worse, my stomach was growling and I was actually craving the imaginary sexaroni pizza that Fez had made up. It was then that I saw a flash of colors zoom past my room and back again—Michael, the father of my child.

"Brooke! Did you have the baby yet?" Michael ran into my room, falling over the raised tile at the door.

"No, I didn't." I clutched my stomach as another contraction came on. It amazed me that this baby hadn't arrived yet.

"Are you okay?" Michael came by my side and held my hand. It was that sweet affection that got us here in the first place.

"I'll be fine," I answered. I breathed in and out, counting to ten over and over in my head.

"I don't think singing 'We Will Rock You' is going to help." Michael told me, getting up and looking around the room for something more entertaining.

"Michael… don't… touch… that." I panted, brushing back a strand of hair and re-thought my call to him.

Sheepishly, Michael stepped away from the monitor he had been fiddling with. It occurred to me then that, even though he was grown, this boy I had fallen for nine months before was still an immature kid.

In a few quick moments, before I had a chance to register it in my mind, I found myself surrounded by my mom, Michael, the doctor, and two nurses. I smiled a bit as I felt Michael grab my hand—it seemed that he was more scared than I was.

"Brooke, are you ready?" The doctor asked, his tone as calm as could be.

My stomach lurched forward, my heart pounded more, my forehead felt like it was burning, and I could feel most of my other insides twist. I leaned up on my elbows exclaiming, "Just get this baby out of me!"

~~~ . . . ~~~

"Hi, sweetie. Hi." Michael sat by my bedside, shaking our daughter's tiny hand. He looked up at me, saying, "I can't just call her sweetie forever. I say we name her Veronica.

"Veronica! What kind of planet are you living on?" I stared at Michael's blank face, watching him trying to find an answer. "It was a rhetorical question," I told him. He looked at me weirdly again. "Forget it. I think Bethany is a much nicer name."

"That's too plain," Michael countered.

"Well, she needs a middle name and I'm going to name her."

"What about Bethany Veronica?"

I considered the name, playing it over in my head. "Bethany Victoria is better; we could call her Betsy." I smiled down at the baby in my arms, a new little person to love.

"So it's settled," Michael took Betsy from me and spun around, still hugging her tight. "Bethany Victoria Kelso is here to stay."

I laughed, making a mental note of the moment. Everything was perfect, even though the way my daughter came to be wasn't. I tried to imagine what life would be like when Betsy was having her first child, but I could only think about what would happen in the next five minutes.

I don't know where our future will take us. Maybe Michael and I will start a real relationship—I've found myself falling for him for real these past 9 months, but maybe it's just the hormones talking. Maybe we'll get married. Maybe we'll have a big (or small) loving family like I've always imagined. Maybe I'll go back to the way life was before I started the road to Betsy.


End file.
